


You Kill Me, Mr. Wick

by sweetrango



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Assassin - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Keanu Reeves - Freeform, Oneshot, POV Second Person, Reader x John wick, Romance, Russian Mafia, john wick x reader, mafia, reader x keanu reeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetrango/pseuds/sweetrango
Summary: Things had not been going well. All of a sudden you were wanted dead by the Chinese mob, you were forced to live in an hotel tailored to assassins, and you just so happened to bump into John Wick— the most dangerous of them all.Little did you know that you were slowly falling in love with him...





	1. The Funeral

**Author's Note:**

> I love the John Wick series so much, so I just had to write a short story about it!  
> I’m trying out a Second Person POV; Reader x John, so enjoy!

Everything was so surreal. You couldn’t comprehend the image of the casket lowering into the ground before you. Everyone’s faces were grim and solemn, but yours dripped with bewildered tears.  
Gripping a handful of dirt, it was time to toss it in— but you didn’t want to bury your brother. You didn’t want to seal his fate, say goodbye. He was everything to you— literally. Ever since mom and dad died, it was just the two of you. And your big brother wasn’t too shabby taking care of childish ol’ you.  
In fact, it was the last day you saw him alive that he had thrown you a small birthday party. It was just the two of you, which was perfectly fine. And he surprised you with a tiramisu cake, which was your favorite.  
“I couldn’t fit thirty candles on there, so I just decided to put one.” He joked, grinning at you with that lopsided goofy mouth of his. 

“Good.” You smirked back at him before blowing out the candle. “I don’t want to remember that I’m getting old.”  
As you dug into your desert, he slowly lowered himself down in the chair across from you, letting his stiff bones settle. There was a comfortable silence until he started tapping his fingers on the table anxiously.  
You couldn’t help but to glance up, setting your eyes on his uneasy face. “I have to go soon, Y/N.” He confessed, instantly glazing away.  
You’re eyebrows furrowed in agitation when you heard that. “But you just got back! It’s only been a month. You seriously have another business trip?” 

He sucked in a breath. “Yeah, another _business trip_. I’m sorry, sis.” He brought his heavy eyes back up to yours, scanning you over for a few moments before leaning over to kiss you on the forehead. “I’ll see you soon.” 

The next time you saw him was in the morgue, frozen and dead. The memory sickened you.  
You must have waited too long to throw the dirt in because the priest was suddenly by your side, telling you that it was going to be okay. Your hand unclenched, and the dirt scattered over the wooden hood of the coffin. He was gone.  
Like as if on cue, the sky grew dark and rain began to pour down. Everyone had an umbrella except for you, and as they all dispersed, you were left alone to wallow in misery.  
But it was only a few minutes of soaked solitude, until a figure approached you. You didn’t recognize him, but he handed you an open umbrella. 

“Thank you,” you replied softly, reaching up to wipe the water from your heavy lashes. 

The man didn’t say anything, he just held out a white envelope, and once you took it, he was off. You were so bewildered by the whole ordeal, you stood like a statue for a good minute and a half before eyeing the envelope in your hand. You flipped it over, it said your name on the front— but it was written by your brother. That was his writing, you knew it for sure.  
You glanced over to his grave, then decided to open the envelope right there. 

A gold coin slipped out. It was strange; bigger than a quarter, with odd inscriptions. 

There also was a letter. 

The first thing you read was: _“The Continental will be your new safe haven,”_


	2. New Plan

It had been twenty-four hours since the funeral, and you had gotten no sleep what-so-ever. You were currently sitting at the kitchen table, mulling over the letter from your brother.

_“Y/N, The Continental will be your new safe haven. As you know by now, I am dead. I’m sorry, but I knew it was going to happen sooner than later. I know this sounds crazy, but you need to move out of the apartment. Just leave your things and go. Take little. Go to the Continental Hotel (you know where it is) and ask for the manager. Then demand a job. They will give you one. Take whatever it is. Make sure it is full-time, so that they will give you a room to live in. Just trust me. Leave immediately once you’ve received this letter. The people at the hotel will explain everything._

_I love you.”_

What the heck was going on? You bit your lip, surveying the apartment around you. He wanted you to leave? But this was your home.  
You looked back at the letter. That was his handwriting; you were one hundred percent sure. This was insane.  
You slowly got up and went into the bedroom, grabbing a small duffle-bag. Your numb fingers packed it with a few pairs of clothes, a few pictures, important documents—

What were you doing? This was definitely insane. You couldn’t be this rash about it, you needed to rack your mind. The letter just didn’t make sense. You listed the facts: Your brother was a salesman, he traveled a lot and was prone to stress and anxiety— therefore he had heart problems. And that’s how he died, heart attack. That was him, that was his life, simple and unforgiving.  
So this mysterious letter caught you entirely off guard. The whole situation was crazy— the mysterious delivery man, the gold coin, the hotel and.... and the idea that your brother knew he was going to die _’sooner than later’_.  
You slapped your hands into your face and collapsed onto bed, feeling your own heart begin to fail. This was all too much. You just wished that he was here. 

BANG. _“Hǎo de, wǒ zài zhèlǐ.”_

You were shocked out of sleep by a loud noise. You sat up instantly however when you heard the low tone of Chinese drifting in from behind the wall. It seemed to be coming from your brothers’ room. Did someone break in through his window? Your heart sped up, but you quickly swung your legs around, gently setting your socked toes onto the floor.  
Luckily, the duffel bag still remained on the bed, so you slowly dipped an arm down and hooked the straps over your forearm, taking it with you.  
BANG. CRASH. The noise wasn’t as loud this time, but you could tell whoever-it-was was definitely in your brothers room, and looking for something. You took the moment of noise to slip out of your room. The door to your brothers room was still closed, so you started to make a dash to the front door, but then remembered the coin. Shit.  
You paused in your tracks. Shit shit. Glancing back at the kitchen table, which seemed miles away, the coin sat on top of where you left the letter.  
Taking a deep breath, you decided to back track, silently jogging back to grab the damn thing— 

**BANG!**

As if you were a deer in headlights, you raised your wide eyes to the man standing in the doorway of your brothers’ room. His freshly smoking gun laid pointed at your hand, but fortunately the gunman had missed by an inch.  
You screamed, taking off instantly towards the front door, slamming it behind you as the gunman fired off a few more rounds in your direction.  
You almost took a tumble down the stairs a few times but eventually you made it to street level, hailing the first taxi you saw and dived right in. 

“The Continental— fast!”


	3. A New Life

You stood on the first step of the hotel, looking up at the looming structure. You felt only a fraction of relief, having been speedily driven away from the apartment— away from that crazy gunman. But the sheer idea that you were just _shot at_ made your knees weak. You glanced over your shoulder with paranoia.   
Normal people passed by; a woman walking her dog, a couple jogging.   
You’ll be fine. You tried to reassure yourself. With a deep breath you entered the hotel.   
It was fancy, that was your first thought as you walked through the lobby. Your socked feet slid slightly on the shiny tile floor.   
There were well dressed customers seated in comfy looking black sofa chairs, and they all appeared to stare at you as you made your way to the front counter.   
The nice looking African man behind the counter raised his eyebrows at you, trying his hardest not to judge a book by its cover. He just gave a closed mouth smile and calmly said, “Welcome to the Continental, Miss L/N, how can I help you?” 

Your eyes widened. You were not expecting him to know your name. Your mouth hung speechlessly agape for a moment, before you finally spit out the instructions from the letter. “I’d like to see the manager please.” 

“Yes, of course. This way.” He rounded the counter and escorted you down a hall and into a small room. He told you to wait a second, before going up to another door inside the room to give a knock. He then poked his head in and murmured something.   
After a second, he stepped back to allow another man exit the room. He was tall and wearing an all black suit; his dark eyes glanced over to you briefly before he disappeared down the hall. 

“You can come in.” Announced a British accent from the room. 

You tore your gaze from where the tall stranger disappeared to and gave a small thankful smile to the African man as you passed by and entered the manager’s office.   
The man sitting before you gestured to the chair in front of his desk, and you obediently took a seat. There was silence for a moment, before both of you opened your mouths to speak— however, you were quick and ballsy enough to speak first. “I would like a job.” 

The man simply chuckled at your request. “Right to the point I see. Just like your brother. I’m sorry to hear about what happened by the way.” 

You narrowed your eyes. “And what exactly did happen?” 

“He died.” 

No duh. You frowned bitterly, and crossed your arms around your chest. “Yes. But then I get this strange letter from him instructing me that I’m not safe and that I have to come here.” 

“Did you also receive a gold coin by any chance?” He asked, reaching over to pour two glasses of bourbon. He handed you one, which you instantly took a big gulp of before nodding. You gingerly took out the coin from your pocket, holding it up for him to see.   
He smiled slightly and held out a hand. “And that would be for me, my dear.” 

You were about to hand it over but then hesitated, recoiling back to hold to to your chest. “But what if it’s special or something. I mean, my brother gave it to me.” 

The man gave a stocky laugh, and shook his head. “It’s currency.” He got up and made his way to a cabinet across the room. He typed in a code on a keypad and the doors opened, revealing selves of the gold coins all in vast array. You frowned at that, part of you wishing that the coin was actually special just for you.   
“So do you want your job or not?” He continued, shutting the doors and returning to his seat. 

“You’re going to give me one?” I asked, shocked at how easy all this was. 

He nodded. “If you give me that coin, then we can talk business.” 

You looked down at the little gold coin in your hands. Just go with your gut. You sighed and extended your hand to plop the thing in his. He smiled. “Thank you, Y/N. Now, you can—“

“I’m sorry,” You interrupted, and the manager raised his eyebrows as if it was a sin to interrupt him, but he kept his mouth shut for you to continue, “But how do you all know who I am?” 

“Your brother used to work for us.” 

You felt your heart sink and your brain spin. “No, he was a salesman for a boat company.” 

That was when the man began to crack up laughing. “Oh no, please don’t tell me that’s what he went with?” He slapped a hand over his chest and took another drink of bourbon to calm himself down. “A _boat salesman_?! Who the fuck needs a boat in New York City?” 

“Well that’s why he would—“ 

“No,” he raised a finger and wagged it at you, “No, dear, he was lying to you.” When he saw the look of horror and confusion on your face at that inclination, he added, “Don’t worry, it was only to protect you. He works for us.”

Your stomach began to sink, and you felt sick. You were being lied to? By your brother? That was just too out of character for him! Or was it? All of these sudden events made you almost wonder if you even knew your brother truly at all? You didn’t want to ask, but you found yourself doing it anyway: “Who exactly is ‘us’?” 

“The High Table.” He paused, pursing his lips as if debating whether or not to explain it all now. He took a deep exhale through his nose and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Your brother was...a great assassin.” 

Thick silence filled the room. The word AS-SASS-IN trickled through your mind. Part of you felt like bursting out in hysterical laughter. But it was only a small part. You knew he was being serious; the look in his eye, the way he poured you another round of bourbon. You took it silently, downing the whole bitter thing in one go. It burned your throat. 

“For how long?” You asked solemnly. 

“Twenty-two years.”

The number was like a slap in the face. You boldly reached over and grabbed the glass bottle of bourbon, pouring yourself another drink. The manager only gave a dry chuckle. 

“Like I said, he was good at his job.” He continued, “And he didn’t want you to get involved so you weren’t. You are lucky he was able to keep you safe this whole time.” 

Your eyes dropped to your lap. They watered with tears. “But now he’s gone....” 

“And here _we_ are.” The manager reached over and took a piece of paper in his hand. “You’re going to be our new cleaning maid. I want you to sign here.” He placed the paper down in front of you along with a ballpoint pen. You did as he asked. “Just to be clear you work for me, and me only.” He went on, leaning back in his chair. “This hotel will be your new home until specified otherwise. You will not leave hotel grounds unless specified otherwise. And you will not disclose any and all information you gather from here on out to anyone— do you understand?” 

Your stomach was in knots. But you nodded anyway. By the tone of his voice you didn’t dare think about what would happen if you disobeyed any of these rules. 

“Your brother was involved with the Smirnov and Zhou gangs towards the last few years of his life. It appears that the two gangs have developed into a rivalry since your brother was sent to kill Ivan Smirnov by Zhou’s leader. But he failed to do so, so Zhou had to eliminate him.” He paused to see if you were following along. You were just trying your best not to shed a tear. “And now they are cleaning up loose ends.” 

“But I don’t know anything.” You exclaimed, fists tightening around the material of your shirt. 

“You’re a relative and that’s all that matters. But you will be safe here, Y/N. The Continental has a no kill policy. No ‘business’ of the High Table can be committed here. That is why it was so important to your bother that you came here.”

Well that was reassuring. You frowned. All you wanted to do was to wake up from this nightmare. The manager could see your stricken tiredness and sighed, deciding to shift gears. “You’ll be in room three. You can start working tomorrow. Go back to the front desk and Charon will show you the ropes. Oh, and a bit of advice,” he reached into a drawer and pulled out the room key, handing it over to you. “Try not to converse with the guests. For your own sake.” 

It was just you, your duffel bag and your key— the only things you had now. You stared down at the large key in your hand and tried not to break down. The elevator ride didn’t take two minutes and you were already on your floor.   
You sucked in a breath and exited, silently making your way down the hall. But something made you freeze a few feet from room three.   
A small grey pit bull slept in front of your door, curled up in a tight ball. 

You didn’t know if he was friendly or not, but you managed to crack a smile regardless— you simply adored dogs. You watched him sleep for a few seconds before deciding to try to carefully open the door behind him without waking him.   
Of course you failed right when you took another step closer, and the dog instantly perked up, opening his big eyes to gaze at you. It seemed like he was smiling back, tongue hanging out and lips pulled back as he panted.   
You took another curious step closer and the dog’s tail began to wag. “Hey buddy,” you grinned, “I gotta get inside my room, please.” 

But the dog wouldn’t budge. He continued to stare at you happily, only shifting slightly to let out a large vocal yawn. That’s when a door suddenly whipped open a few rooms down. 

_“Dog.”_ A rough voice called. 

You glanced over and locked eyes with the tall man from earlier. He was still wearing his sharp dark suit but this time you were able to notice a black blotch stained on his side. He was gingerly gripping that area with his hand— his knuckles were bruised.   
The pit bull instantly left his position in front of you to trot over to his owner and disappeared into his room.   
The man stood there a few extra beats, as if he wanted to say something more, but then he slipped back into his room to shut the door behind him.   
A few butterflies stirred up in your stomach but you quickly tried to stuff that feeling away. No time for that. He was probably dangerous.  
You let out a sigh through your nostrils and finally opened the door to room three. Your new home was nice at first glance.  
A medium sized suite with one bed and a bathroom and tiny kitchenette. It was the windows that actually blew you away. You had such an amazing view of the park even though you were just on the second floor.   
You had never been in such a place that had so many windows. The view was nice, but you found yourself closing all the blinds. If people were after you, you didn’t want them looking into your room.   
And you didn’t like the idea that all you had was a thin glass barrier between you and the world.


	4. Break-In

You woke up to the sound of gunshots— or at least that’s what you thought it was until you realized it was just your phone alarm.  
Scanning the room, your heart throbbed. You couldn’t believe the situation you were in. It was all so surreal.  
It took you a while to get ready, but you ended up making it to the front counter of the lobby. The African man, whose name was Charon, introduced you to the other cleaning ladies and firmly gave you instructions.  
For instance, “Always open the vent and wear a mask if you have to use the bleach to clean bloodstains.”  
It was that one in particular that really got to you. 

You started on room twelve hundred and seven before finally ending on your floor. It had been a long days worth of cleaning, but you felt yourself gravitating to room six. That was the tall mans’ room.  
You gave a small knock on the door, announcing “Cleaning!” But there was no answer.  
You paused, biting your lip— you shouldn’t... there was no Cleaning Service sign hanging from the doorknob, but there wasn’t a Do Not Disturb sign either. So you took your skeleton key out and opened the door. 

It was dark in his room. You slowly entered, instantly taking notice to the array of guns on the counter. The pit bull scurried up to you with his happy face and wagging tail. 

“Hey buddy. Nice to see you again.” You whispered, getting on your knees to scratch behind his ears. He gave you a few slimy kisses before turning around to jump on the bed.  
You stood, noticing that the dog was curled up next to a large bloodstain on the white sheets. Your brow furrowed, deciding that a change of sheets needed to be in order. So you climbed on the bed as well and took off the pillows, reaching over the side to take off the sheet.  
However, you froze like ice when you heard soft footsteps behind you and then a demanding, “What are you doing?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, swearing under your breath. You didn’t want to turn around, but you did. The tall man stood at the edge of the bed, a gun hanging from his right hand but it was pointed at the floor. He wore a classic black and white suit this time instead of the all-black. And his hair was a bit more disheveled than slicked back.  
Your eyes scanned his figure up and down before finally resting on that gun. “I...I was just....cleaning. I mean,” you gulped, “There’s a stain on your bed and...I wanted to get rid of it for you....” 

The man stared at you for a few moments before cocking his eyebrow and turning to set his gun down. ”You can go now.” 

He sounded agitated in his deep tone, and his gun made a heavy CLINK sound once it was set down. You wondered if he had used it tonight.... and that thought frightened you. So you propelled backwards, trying to get off the bed as fast as you could but you ended up stumbling backwards onto the nightstand.  
You heard something drop, so you spun around to see a small chain laying on the floor. Leaning down to pick it up, you held the pretty thing in your hand gingerly. It was silver and studded with daisies. “I’m sorry...” you fumbled, rounding the bed now to come closer to him. But his brooding presence made you stop a foot away. “This is such a beautiful charm.” 

His eyes glanced down at the charm, then locked with yours. They held torment and agony beneath them. He reached up to take the charm from you, in doing so his hand brushed against yours. You shot your hand back, gripping it to you chest. It was an awkward moment as you both stood silently, his eyes never leaving your face before finally a tormented sigh escaped his lips and he stepped away. 

“Goodnight.” He stated, head hanging with eyes focused on the floor now.

You gave a swift nod, noting it was definitely time for you to go, passing him to leave the room, shutting the door behind you. Your face was hot with blush— that was so embarrassing. Dammit, you shouldn’t have gone into his room. That was so stupid of you!  
However, you paused outside of his door before deciding to reach into your cleaning cart to pull out a fresh new pair of sheets.  
You gently placed them on the ground in front of the door. The thought of him sleeping in a pool of his own blood was unsettling. So you gave a little knock before rushing down the hall to your room.  
You fumbled to get out your key in time, so his door swung open and he stepped out. His eyebrow cocked up when he saw the new sheets and picked them up, taking a moment to look in your direction. He didn’t say anything, but you swore you saw a little smirk painted onto his lips before he disappeared into his room for the night.


	5. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to _Think_ by Kaleida, if you want to get into the mood of the last scene.

You had made it your daily routine to drop clean sheets off in front of his door everytime you saw him come back home with a bloody physique. It was a dark thought, but you had almost wanted him to return every night like that just so you could have an excuse to slowly seep into his world.   
And it had been a couple nights of fresh sheets when his smile had grown big enough that you could see it through the crack in your door. He ran a bruised hand over the soft white fabric— you wondered how rough his hands felt— then glanced in your direction. That’s when you disappeared from your position behind your door; your face was flush and your body tense. He knew it was you giving him these gifts, and but yet you still felt embarrassed over it, as if you were still trying to hide yourself from him. 

You often found yourself in your room or the lobby when you were off work. You were sick wallowing in grief over your brother, which typically took place in the dark depths of your room, so it was the lobby today.   
Assassins were scattered all over the place, sitting in the sofa chairs with you or standing round with their luggage waiting for the bell boy. _Assassins_. You almost scoffed out loud at such insanity. And the ridiculous thing was that they all looked normal.   
You looked at a woman in all black, a little younger than you, who had cherry red lips and eyes that appeared as if they could cut you with just one glance. Well, maybe she could definitely be an assassin. And she was, of course.   
She looked up at you, as if reading your thoughts, and you instantly averted your gaze to your lap. 

_Please dont kill me,_ you thought. But then you remembered that nifty rule about the hotel. However, you wondered if some of these killers were ballsy enough to break it. That made you sweat a little.   
Suddenly everyone’s phones went off at the same time, and after reading the message, most, if not all, stood up to rush around. What was that about?   
After a minute, the commotion died down and you were the only one in the lobby. You looked around dumbfounded. 

“A bounty must have been released.” A voice sounded behind you. 

You spun around in your seat to see Charon at the counter, he gave you an amused smile. 

“And... they all get alerted like that? On their phones?” You asked, slipping out of the chair to wander over to his counter.   
He gave a slight nod and replied, “That’s how it works. Quite efficient isn’t it?” 

“Quite morbid.” You frowned. Imagine getting a text message about your next kill. That must have been the same way your brother accepted his own bounties. 

Charon noticed your unease. “Why don’t I show you something.” He rounded the table and signaled you to follow him. You hesitated for a second, but then went right ahead.   
He brought you down a hall that held one single door at the end. There was a small window on the door, and lights of various neon colors illuminated out of it.   
“Go to the woman at the bar, she will take care of you.” Charon smiled, then left.   
Your brow furrowed, but you turned, slowly opening the door before you. 

And you couldn’t believe your eyes— it was a whole nightclub.   
Loud music drifted through the air as you entered. There wasn’t too many people there at the moment— you imagined it had to do with that bounty— but there were just enough to keep the place lively. You went over to the bar like Charon said, and the woman behind it smiled at you. 

“Y/N,” she said, “Nice to meet you finally. I knew your brother.” 

Of course she did. You almost rolled your eyes at that. Everyone seemed to _know your brother_ except for you. “Is that so?” You retorted, slipping onto one of the stools. 

She nodded, reaching over with a tattooed hand to grab a liquor bottle. “I’m Mindi, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.” You gave a small smile in return. She was around your age it appeared, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try to make friends. You were stuck here anyway. 

Mindi poured some alcohol into a glass and swooshed it around. “I know it’s under bad circumstances that you’ve come to work for the Continental. But trust me when I say that it’s exciting to work here.” Her green eyes glittered. It was hard not to believe her. 

“Can I have a drink please?” You asked, but she replied that she already had one in the works for you. You gratuitously grinned at the sound of that. 

It was then when the club door opened, and a dark figure sauntered in— it was him. He made his way to the corner of the large room, choosing to sit in a booth by himself. You watched as he set his elbows on the table, hunching forward in imperfect posture. He sat in serious thought before a waitress approached him, and he snapped out of it to order some sort of drink.

“Bourbon, with rocks.” The waitress told Mindi, who had just finished your drink; some sort of fruity concoction. You typically preferred the straight hard stuff, but this was great too. You unconsciously fished the straw into your mouth as you kept eyes on tall man. He didn’t look bloodied up tonight, which was such a relief; but that meant no sheet delivery. It was almost odd seeing him with out any fresh cuts or bruises... it was like looking at a painting without any blemishes. 

“Stop thinking about him.” 

The sentence jarred you out of your mind stupor, and you turned back around to see Mindi, raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Excuse me?” You blinked, taking an innocent sip of your cocktail. 

She grew a smirk, shaking her head. “You were looking at **John Wick** weren’t you?” When you had no response right away, she continued, “The man sitting alone over there. That’s John.” 

_“John...”_ You tasted his name on your lips. Finally, a name to the face. 

“Yeah, I’d keep my distance.” She stated firmly, then lowered her voice, “He’s the most dangerous out of all of them. Poor John lost his wife a _few years back_ and... well, let’s just say it’s not good to be on his bad side now.” She paused for a second, “It was _never_ good to be on his bad side actually. But he’s been a complete killing machine since the funeral.” She sighed in sympathy, stopping the story there, but you could tell there was a lot more she wasn’t saying.   
You turned back to look at him. He drank his bourbon peacefully.   
You didn’t doubt his sinister skill, but at the same time, he didn’t look too menacing at the moment. He just looked tired. 

“That’s terrible...” you muttered, feeling tears bubble to your eyes. Now you knew how it was to lose someone you loved. It was like torture.


	6. Screw Up

You stared at yourself in the mirror. Horrible. Truly horrible. You had only packed two days worth of clothes in your duffel bag so you had been interchanging between them this whole time. You also had no shoes originally, but the manager— whose name you figured out was Winston— magically sent a pair of white sneakers to your room after the first day. And that’s what you’ve been wearing since.   
It was a bit embarrassing to go about the hotel in hand-me-downs while everyone else looked so dapper and deadly (literally). 

You huffed at yourself, yanking at the drawstrings of your sweatshirt in irritation. That was when you turned you attention towards the windows. The bustling streets of NYC appeared to be on the silent end today....   
You bit you lip. Should you? No... no, the mob was on your tails.   
But you couldn’t resist the thought of some new clothes.   
There were a few boutiques around the corner, so you wouldn’t be going that far anyway. With a deep breath, you decided, grabbing a small wad of cash from your bag and your worker key.   
You knew there was a door leading to an alleyway in the laundry room, so that’s where you went. And soon, you successfully made it to the street.   
You were hesitant at first, slowly stretching a foot out from the hotel and onto the pavement— as if the first step would cause you to explode. But it was fine, and there was no one around.   
You also made it down the street and to the boutique without any problems. Yet your palms were sweaty and your eyes kept a sharp look out for anything suspicious.   
The lady behind the counter smiled warmly to you as you cautiously entered. “How may I help you today?” 

“I would like a new wardrobe.” You responded, already feeling better on the topic that you’d have some new clothes. 

Soon after, you had various bags hanging from your arms as you jogged back to your secret door of the hotel.   
Now the trick was making sure Charon didn’t catch you. So you threw your bags in a cleaning cart to hide them, and wheeled your way past the front desk and to the elevator with an innocent smile.   
He proceeded to return a small smile, but it was stiff. 

When you got to the safe confines of your room, you grinned and unloaded all of your new things onto the bed. The day was deemed a success! 

It was a bit embarrassing when you thought back about it, but you pulled out a classy v-neck black dress; in all honesty, you only bought it for one purpose. But you were too ashamed to admit it to yourself. It was the thought of John that flashed through your mind when you originally saw it, so you ended up throwing it into your cart.  
A minuscule goofy smile unconsciously crawled it’s way onto your lips as you peered at the dress, but then your eyes caught hold of something. There. In your duffel bag.   
It was a picture of you and your brother. 

You forgot you packed that. 

Suddenly the dress slipped through your fingers, gracefully settling on the bed. You numbly went over to swipe up the picture— he was so happy there.   
You found yourself plopping on the bed, almost crushing the dress beneath you, as you stared at the picture. Tears shamelessly streamed down your cheeks.

You missed him. Lifting the picture to your lips, you kissed his forehead softly. 

It was only until night came along when you collected yourself and slipped on the dress. It fit perfectly. A smile grew on your face as you went over your plan for tonight.   
You were going to go back into the club and sit at the same booth John did last time. Hopefully if you were lucky, he will show up again. 

“Going anywhere?” Charon asked, stretching his neck to see you all dressed up for once as you passed his counter. 

“I’m just going to that bar again,” you truthfully responded. “Thanks for showing it to me by the way.” 

He gave a nod of curtesy before you carried on, walking right into the nightclub, which was much more packed tonight than it was before. It kind of overwhelmed you— the thought of a room full of skilled murders made your knees weak. And to make it worse, it felt like they were all staring at you as you entered— especially when you sat at John’s booth. 

You prayed that no one would go up to start talking to you, and your prayer seemed to be answered because you sat alone for about an hour. 

It was only until Winston appeared out of nowhere and sat before you that your loneliness was killed.   
Except he didn’t look happy. He folded his hands in front of him and demanded, _“What do you think you’re doing?”_

This wasn’t going to be a good night now was it? 

-

And little did you know, when you left the first boutique shop earlier, the blonde woman behind the cash register swiftly dialed a number and held the phone to her ear:

_“Wǒ zhǎodàole tā. Jīng zhèngshí, tā zhù zài jiǔdiàn.”_

**[I found her. It’s confirmed, she’s staying at the hotel.]**


	7. Parental Guidance

The look on Winston’s face was pure annoyance and disappointment. You had to process his question for a second before replying a confused, “Excuse me?” 

He let out a long breath from his nose. “You must think I’m stupid, Y/N. Do you suppose that you could just go ahead and do whatever you want? You think that because I’m a busy manager of a five star hotel I wouldn’t catch you?” He paused, allowing the weight of his words hang in the air. “I know you snuck out today; you left hotel grounds.” 

Shit. You left your eyes slip close for a second, and a hand drifted to your forehead. Your tongue was like lead— this was horrifically embarrassing. 

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t catch that?” Winston raised his brows. “This is a hotel catered to assassins, mind you. I have eyes everywhere.”

“Winston—“ you finally found your voice, but he shut you down with a raised hand. 

“I hope you understand the danger you’ve put yourself in, Y/N. I’m surprised you’re still alive actually. But there is a reason I told you specially you’re prohibited to leave hotel grounds, right?” He waited until you nodded in response. 

You were so uncomfortable; you felt like running back to your room and ripping off the stupid dress. He was right. You had been ridiculously stupid today. “I won’t do it again.” You finally spit out. 

“Correct.” That’s when he slid out of the booth and stood at the edge of the table now. “If you break my rules again I will be forced to feed you to the dogs, if you get my drift. Goodnight Miss L/N.” With that, he turned on his heel to leave, however, something seemed to change his mind and he stood back in front of you again. “I almost forgot; stop pursuing Mister Wick. Mindi told me that you had the eyes for Johnathan. I strongly advise against that.” 

You felt your face deepen to a shade of pink when you heard his name. You slowly shook your head. “No...I don’t—“ that was a lie, and he knew it instantly. 

“You’re sitting in his booth aren’t you?” Winston wondered aloud, giving you a knowing smirk. But then he dropped it, turning on his heel again to finally leave you. “So stop it.” 

Your jaw hung to the ground. You couldn’t believe this; sure, you agree that you made a real dumb decision today but you were a grown woman! You didn’t need an old man telling you who to interact with and who not to interact with.  
You still had common sense. 

This was when you noticed everyone staring at you again. _Take a picture it would last longer._  
You rolled your eyes, turning your attention to the bar; Mindi was there working, so you casually slid out of the booth and made your way over— trying to stand tall and confident over the plethora of eyes.

“Thanks for ratting on me to the old man.” You snapped, placing your palms on the table. Mindi looked innocent enough, as she cleaned the glass in her hand, like she had done you a favor. But before she could explain herself you added, “It’s none of your business by the way. I’m trying to have fun in this penitentiary of a hotel, and if that means getting distracted by a nice looking individual then let it be.” You plopped down on the stool, letting your cheek rest in your hand. 

Mindi sighed with a sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry Y/N. It’s just that no one wants to see you get killed. Everyone’s extra protective because you don’t know about _The Life_ and how dangerous it really is.” 

“Then teach me.” You muttered, feeling like a bullet ripped through your heart as John conveniently entered the club and made his way to the booth. Tonight he had a small gash on the left side of his forehead. 

Mindi let out an audible sigh before leaving you to go serve him. At his table, she reluctantly glanced over at you with a warning eyes— knowing you’d be watching, which you were. 

John followed her gaze and for a good moment, locked eyes with yours.


	8. Baba Yaga

Even the softness of the fabric made you angry. About one hundred sheets had been folded, and you still had to do the towels. It had been a few days since the ‘talk’ and things have been even more dull and boring since. You felt like you were being watched twenty-four seven. Your mind was going to implode. And you even felt pissed towards poor Charon, who had always been nothing but kind to you. 

Suddenly your loathing was interrupted when another cleaning lady entered the room. “Can you throw out the trash for me, Y/N? Thanks.” She left her cart full of trash and grabbed a new cart full of cleaning supplies; the one with the bleach. You gave a small huff but nodded, going over to grab two bags that smelt like rotting flesh.  
“Ah, yuck.” You muttered, quickly rushing to the back door, throwing it open.  
You knew better to take your feet off of the step— or else you wouldn’t be on hotel grounds anymore, so you leaned out instead.  
But the trash didn’t even make it into the bin when it happened: 

**BANG!**

The sound shocked you so much that you flew back into the laundry room. You landed on your back, and there was his horrific ringing noise. Why were there different colors floating in your vision? A groan leaked out of your throat as you forced your head up, and that’s when you saw the red. It was small at first, but then began to spread like a wild fire from under your left rib. You screamed but the ringing in your ears muffled it.  
The door to the outside was still open, and in the alley appeared a man holding a gun. He was slow, like molasses, but you knew he was turning to walk towards you. His arm raised as if to shoot you again. And you braced yourself, even though you had no idea what was going on. 

But a black mass flashed by. Another man. He stood in the doorway fearlessly, raising his own hand to shoot down your assailant:

 **BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!**

You made yourself count the number of bullets; four.  
He instantly kicked the door closed, leaning against it to do the lock. Then he was down next to you all in one swift movement. 

“What’s happening?” You whispered, blurry eyes bouncing around the figure besides you. His hands found their way to your side to apply pressure. 

“You’ve been shot.” He stated, taking a moment to look at you. It was John. You must have started hyperventilating because that triggered him to pull you into his arms. He let you rest your head safely in the crook of his neck as he carried you; the world over his shoulder spun. Your eyes were too heavy to keep open and soon blackness consumed you. 

The next thing you saw was a dark green wall. And honestly that almost made you have a heart attack because you weren’t expecting it. Why weren’t you in a hospital? Where were you?  
You started to sit up, but painfully realized your mid section was completely numb. You were paralyzed in your chair. 

“Don’t worry, Miss L/N.” A short man sitting on a stool next to you said, attempting to keep a calm tone for your sake. “It’s okay. I’m the Doctor. —I knew your brother.” 

“What’s...” you raised a hand to your throbbing head (you felt relieved that you could still move your arms) and slowly looked around. It was a small office-like room. There was medical equipment laying around and cabinets filled with various medicines but it was unlike any doctors office you’d seen before. “What happened?” You had a feeling you just asked that question, but it came out anyway. 

“You were shot in the side. Luckily, the bullet made a clean exit.” The doctor replied. His words seemed foreign. Shot? You? No way. 

Your chest began to grow tight at the mere idea, but when you glanced down to see your cut shirt and the bloody stitches a sob escaped your lips.  
The doctor raised a reassuring hand, along with handing you a bottle of pills. “You’ll be okay, Y/N. Take these four times a day and get rest.”  
Your wide eyes looked towards the orange bottle then to the doctor incredulously. You felt frozen, and you barely realized that you had taken the pills from him.  
He appeared amazed with lifted brows before saying, “I haven’t had anyone sit in this chair for that long before. Usually you people are up and off right when it’s over.” He began to chuckle, and that’s when you realized he wasn’t talking to you.  
You looked over your shoulder to see John sitting in a chair in the corner of the small office. He cracked a smirk at that before swiftly standing to come closer. A hand was extended to you, but you took forever to grab it— feeling as if you moved then all your stitches would burst open.  
He was gentle though, and soon he had you up by his left side. His opposite hand gripped yours in order to keep you afloat. John managed to hand a gold coin to the doctor, then you both were off. 

He brought you straight to your room. You didn’t know how he unlocked the door, but you were in, and you were already being placed on the bed. Your head kept spinning.  
_“Mr. Wick,”_ you whispered, seeing him place the pill bottle on the nightstand before turning to leave, “Don’t leave me.” Your hand hooked onto his sleeve. 

The assassin was frozen for a second, as if allowing time to contemplate, then shifted his body back towards you. Those dark eyes peered down; he was so tall looming over you, as if he took on the embodiment of the grim reaper. But you wouldn’t let that scare you. The grip on his sleeve tightened under your numb fingers. 

“You need rest, Y/N.” Those words drifted from his quiet lips. 

Your eyebrow twitched at the sound of your name. So you asked, “You know my name?” But instantly wished you hadn’t; he probably knew your brother. 

But he simply nodded, which in itself was refreshing for you. His eyes wandered down to your grasping hand, but before he could do anything you said: _“You’ve done enough killing for today.”_

You could tell that John was silently dazed by your comment, but it actually shocked you even more that after a deep inhale, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.  
His head hung slightly, eyes trained onto his lap, but you could sense he was giving another one of those bashful smirks.


	9. A Vow

You hadn’t realized you fell asleep until you woke up again. Tired eyes fluttered open and swept across the orange lit room. The sun was rising so you must have slept all through the night.   
He wasn’t there.  
You attempted to sit up, but the pain was like an explosion in your side. A gasp escaped your lips as you slowly winced into a new position. So none of it was a nightmare, huh? You really were shot.   
Being suddenly alone in your room now let you contemplate; was this what your brother felt? Except one shot times ten? The thought extremely bothered you; so much so that tears found their way streaming down your hot cheeks.   
Of course that was when to your surprise the door opened, and John creeped back in. Even though you were upset, your stomach couldn’t help but to send off some butterflies at the sight of him.   
He rounded the bed to sit down in the same position by your side as before, except this time he held a white paper baggie in his hand.   
“Thought you would like this.” He said, noting that you were now awake, and reached into the bag to pull out a fancy scone of some sort. It looked so delicious. You were so appreciative over the kind gesture, your tears couldn’t stop. It was embarrassing, and you felt like a hot mess but hey, you’ve just been shot for the first time in your life! You gently took the scone and took a bite. Chocolatey.   
John gave a curt smile, but then dropped it when he saw your tears. Reaching a callous hand out, he softly wiped the droplets from your cheeks. 

“It’ll be okay, Y/N.” He whispered, eyes searching yours and occasionally glancing down to your wound. He seemed to appear sadder as each silent moment went by just looking at you with this aura of somber endearment. “I’m...sorry.” 

You shook your head as you finished up the scone, and replied after swallowing the last bite, “Its my fault. But...thank you for saving me.” With your palm flat on the bed, you attempted to push yourself up more, but he quickly held you down. 

“What’s a matter?” You wondered, and John instantly placed a finger to his lips to hush you. A frown tugged on your lips but you could tell he was being serious; his eyes slowly wandered to the door— 

“Y/N!” You jumped at the loud shout of your name that accompanied the door bursting open. Winston barged right in with Charon and a security man behind him. But Winston was the only one who looked agitated; and he held a gun in his hand to your horrific surprise. “I think it’s best if you leave.” He stated.

When John saw the gun he leaped over the bed to stand in front of Winston, courageously blocking him from me. “What are you doing?” He growled.

Winston narrowed his eyes slightly and lowered the weapon even more. “What are _you_ doing Jonathan? I’m trying to kick her out!” 

“Why? She didn’t do anything wrong.” The more this went on the more irritated Johns’ voice got. 

It was silent, like Winston was digesting what was just said, then a sour laugh came out of him. _”Didn’t do anything wrong?”_ he mocked, “She was stupid enough to lead Zhous’ people here; and they fucking vandalized a side of my hotel, killing a staff member!” 

That news made your heart drop. You didn’t know what to even say to that. But at the same time you were frightened out of your wits at the idea of leaving Continental grounds. You knew you would be slaughtered. 

John let out a deep breath through his nose before gesturing the men to leave the room. “I’ll talk to her.” 

They subsided and left, even though Winston glared at John with a look of _‘yeah you better’_. Then as the door shut, John was right next to you again, but this time not as gentle. He had both hands on your shoulders, looking at you intently. “What did you do?” He asked in a low tone. 

You rushed to find words but nothing escaped your mouth. So his grip tightened and he asked again, more intensely, “What did you do?” 

“I just wanted new clothes so I left the hotel and went down the street to some stores. And everything was fine, but I guess they saw me somehow. And then I was just taking out the trash like normal and I made sure I didn’t step out of the hotel! But the guy shot me anyway!” All of that poured out of your mouth at top speed, but it didn’t seem to be what John wanted to hear. Unconscious tears leaked down your cheeks again from the heat of the moment; you just didn’t want to die and your wound was killing you.

“What is your involvement with the Zhou gang?” He asked more elaborately this time. 

None. You had none! It was just “My brother. He’s the one who was involved with them. Winston said... he said that they hired my brother to kill this Smirnov guy, but he never succeeded so they killed him. And now they want to kill me too. That’s all.” 

John’s eyes widened at the sound of the Russian name, but then nodded, taking a quiet moment to assess the situation. You hadn’t fully realized until this very moment how much you were in deep shit. And you were pissed at your brother for leaving you with this burden.   
John reached up and wiped away the wet tears from your face. “Why do they want to kill you, Y/N?” 

“I don’t know.” You shook your head. 

John ran his thumb down your cheek before sitting back. He looked so sad, you were surprised the wasn’t crying. He nodded to himself then glanced back at you. You knew he had just decided your fate right then and there.   
He got up and walked right out of the room, probably to find Winston.   
Luckily, John didn’t have to go too far because they stayed in the hall; you could over hear their conversation. 

“Well?” Winston asked, clearly impatient.

“Let her stay here.” John replied in his gruff tone. The manager started chuckling again, but John continued, “I’ll get rid of them. All of them.”

There was a thick moment of silence. Then in all seriousness, “Are you sure Johnathan? Didn’t you just finish your last marker? I thought—“ 

A sigh. “I know.” 

“What is it to you with this girl? Her brother never did any thing special for you.” 

“I just can’t let her die.” John waited for the managers’ approval, then entered your room again, shutting the door behind him slowly.   
His head was down, and he took a good moment at the door with his back turned to you before coming over. He stood at the edge of your bed. You had no idea what just happened and the look on your face told it all. 

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small silver disk. Opening it like a clam shell, he pierced his thumb and pressed his bloody print on it until it was nice and stained. He took a seat next to you again, and showed you his thumb print. “This is my vow to you; an oath of protection.” 

You couldn’t believe what was happening. Did an _assassin_ just openly vow to protect you?   
Your mouth hung agape for a moment before getting the courage to ask, “Thank you but... why me? I haven’t done anything to deserve your kindness.” 

He slowly shut the marker then looked up to you, tormented eyes searching your face. _“You have her smile.”_


	10. Becoming Like You

John’s words danced around your head: _You have her smile_

As the days went by, the comment ceased to haunt you. Should you be flattered or saddened by it? Either way, you still couldn’t get over his vow of protection. It made the butterflies in your stomach swarm but also your anger bubble. This was all your fault. If you had just followed the rules in the first place then none of this would be happening.  
You wouldn’t have a bullet hole under your rib cage. The pills the doctor gave you were working incredibly well, like some miracle drug. You were already up and walking; but that made you stir crazy. Pulling up your t-shirt you examined your healing wound. Maybe it was time to get the stiches removed.  
You went over to the door and paused for a moment; you hadn’t really left your room since Winston barged in. But that didn’t mean you were restricted to your room, you weren’t grounded. So you opened the door and set off to find the doctor. You couldn’t help but to glance back at John’s room on the way. John hadn’t come by since the incident, and you worried about him.  
The thought that he might be doing ‘work’ on your behalf made you feel guilty.  
Upon wandering to the lobby, you asked Charon kindly where to find the doctor in the grand hotel. Charon told you without any qualms and speedily apologized for what happened a few days ago. 

You found your way to the doctors office and knocked on the door. Luckily he had no clients so he invited you in, “Ah Miss L/N, welcome. Time to get those stitches out, huh?” 

“I think so.” You blushed, holding up the bottom of your shirt for him to see.

After taking a quick look, he gestured for you to sit in the medical chair, and grabbed something that looked like pliers. “You’re lucky Mr. Wick found you. After few minutes and you would have lost too much blood.”

You tried not to watch as he yanked on the wire string baked inside your flesh. “A few more minutes and I would’ve had a few more bullets.”

“That is true too.” He smiled, as if this conversation was totally normal. “I also heard that Mr. Wick is taking on another mission. Quite interesting.” 

One of the wires dug into your skin which made you twitch. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, it took some years but he’s finally payed off all his debts...sins... markers.... there’s been talk he was going to try _retiring again_. But now you come along and he’s out fighting your battle.”

Um okay. That hurt you a little. You shifted around uncomfortably in the chair. “I didn’t ask him to.”  
You felt the doctor pull out the last wire and set the tool on the tray. He gave a little chuckle and rolled back on his stool.  
“Do you know why John got out of retirement in the first place?” His face held a strange amusement; you slowly shook your head.  
“Because some Russian imbeciles stole his car and killed his puppy.”

“You’re kidding!” You couldn’t believe such a story. The idea of a dog getting killed did not sit well in your stomach, but were those things worth getting back into the assassin game?  
It was like the doctor read your mind because he added, “The car is one thing, but the dog? That was a gift from his recently deceased wife. So he wanted revenge. He got it of course— no stopping the _Baba Yaga_ — But once you get back in it’s hard to get back out. He even went _Excommunicado_ once, not sure how he got out of that but he did—“ The odd look on your face made him pause for a moment, but he cracked a smile and raised a hand as if to say _’A story for another time’_ then continued. “Anyway, seems like he’s not out of the game just yet.” He eyed you up and down with that mused smirk which made you frown.  
The guilt inside your chest grew, but you were also so confused about everything. If he was about to retire then why didn’t he?  
You slid off the chair, reaching in your pocket to grab a coin (John provided you with some before he had left the last time you saw him), but the doctor kindly refused.  
“On the house, Miss L/N. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.” He gave a wave, and you nodded, slowly turning to the door with a sour feeling in your stomach. What was that supposed to mean?  
You were about to grab the knob before something came over you. You turned back to him and asked, “Where can one learn to shoot a gun around here?”

“Ask anyone you bump into.” He joked at first but then stated, “There is an weapons arsenal down the hall, talk to the man in charge. He’ll help you.” 

-

The doctor was right. There was an Arsenal, and it was chock full of all different types of weaponry. The man there looked dapper, as if he was a salesman and you just walked into a fancy store.  
At first you were nervous, because the new idea that popped in your mind seemed irrational; but if your brother was a skilled assassin, then why couldn’t you possess that same skill too?  
You just needed a little guidance. And that’s what you demanded to the weapons dealer. He was amused at first, but when you gave him a coin and told him your last name the gears finally turned and he instantly slapped a handgun in your hands to start the lesson. 

After what felt like forever, practicing shooting blanks and loading-unloading, he brought you into a secret room which doubled as a shooting range. There was only one lane however, and the quarters were tight but it served its purpose. 

“We’re going to try real bullets this time, Y/N.” He grinned, “Try to impress me.” 

-

The paper was folded neatly in your battered and bruised hands as you ran down the hall, beaming at your accomplishment. Despite the painful soreness in your palms, you were giddy inside; it appeared that you did have your brothers skill after all. It only took eight more hours of intense training to figure it out.  
It was late now, probably around twelve thirty at night. You prayed that John was home.  
Stopping at his door, you gave it a rap with your knuckles. No answer.  
The only sound you could hear was the impatient whistle of the pit bull from inside.  
A huff escaped your lips, but you were determined anyway, taking your Cleaning key out with shaky fingers.  
The dog rushed up to you in excitement when you entered the dark room. You flipped on the light from the lamp and went to go it down in a sofa chair near the large windows. The dog instantly jumped up onto your lap, and you laughed at that because he was a little too big but didn’t seem to care, curling up into a tight ball.  
You patted his velvety head. 

“I wonder what your name is?” You whispered a loud. The dog didn’t stir. 

The room was still dark enough for your eyes to slip shut every now and then; you simply couldn’t help but to nod off. 

“Y/N.” 

You suddenly stirred at the sound of your name to see the tall, dark figure of John standing over you.  
You instantly shot up, noting the dog wasn’t on your lap anymore, and your face became warm in blush.  
“I’m sorry,” you apologized, “I wanted to see you again...and...and,” a sigh escaped your lips. You gave a little shrug and shoo your head at yourself. “I abused my power to come into your room. I’m sorry.” You held up your key to show him what you meant.  
Instead of getting mad, he gave a closed mouth smile. “You like to sneak around places don’t you?” 

“I don’t mean to...” your cheeks flushed, but then you reached down to pull up the bottom of your shirt. “The doctor took out my stitches. So I feel a lot better.” 

He stepped a little closer to see, and fingers grazed your fresh scar gently. You held back the physical shiver it brought to your spine and felt your face heat up even more. You quickly yanked your shirt back down and took out the folded piece of paper. 

“What’s that?” He asked, cautiously eyeing what you held. But for some reason you had a feeling that he already knew what it was. 

It was a target. You unfolded it to reveal a clean section of bullet holes in the center chest cavity outlined on the paper. You had hit it perfectly. “I wanted to show you this. Turns out I can actually do it...I’m like my brother and I—“

“Y/N.” 

“I can help you defeat them. I can go with you and assist you. I can kill them, and–“

 _”Y/N.”_

“I can get my revenge.” 

“Enough!” He yelled, standing so close now that his hands were grasping yours, crushing the target beneath them. His eyes held fire as they stared into yours, and he shook his head. “I can’t let you do that. It’s too dangerous.” 

You let out an impatient breath. “What do you care? _What do you care, Mr. Wick?_ ” You kept a demanding tone, and surprisingly it seemed to work a little on him.  
He glanced down at your hands folded under his before stepping away. He peeled off his suit jacket and threw it on the chair, back turned to you.  
_I don’t care_ said his actions.  
Slowly, you opened your hands to reveal the crushed up target you once were so proud of. Tears started to well up but you instantly swallowed them down; enough of the cry fest.  
You glanced over at him, seeing that he was frozen in place, contemplating. He did care. And you knew it. It was just the why that bothered you.  
_”...You have her smile...”_  
You approached him quietly and rested a hand on his defined shoulder blade, making him instantly tense by the touch. There was a moment of mutuality before he pulled away, trudging off to the bathroom. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess there is some John-angst?


	11. Finally

Little did you know that John went out again that night right after you left his room to track down the Zhou gang for the fourth time. He made no luck again. He couldn’t understand why he was getting no where— and no one wanted to help him either. Something about him being _too old for the job._  
Or at least, that’s what he alluded to as he sat across from you, face telling it all with a fresh slash over the bridge of his nose and the cut on his forehead back open.  
You were originally worried that he wouldn’t want to speak with you after what happened last night, but here you were. He had invited you to the rooftop of the hotel to have lunch.  
He had a tired, frustrated look in his eye as he told you, “I promise I’ll get them soon. It’s just...been difficult.” The assassin shook his head to himself, clearly pissed at his new past failures. 

You sighed, reaching across the table to dab the bloody cut on his nose with a napkin. “You don’t have to do this for me, Mr. Wick.” 

“You can call me John.” He replied, placing a warm hand over yours to stop it from dabbing his nose. Your kind act made him smile slightly. “And I do.”

You wished he would elaborate but he didn’t. Instead he gave a curt sigh and continued with a regretful tone, “I think I may need you.”  
Those words surprised you, going through one ear and out the other. You unconsciously straightened up taller and cocked an eyebrow. “Oh really?”  
Maybe you really did impress him with your firearm skills last night. But a frown tugged on his lips.  
“I just need you in order to get their attention. I don’t intend for you to do anything specific.” He stated knowingly, strongly hinting the opposite of your hopes.  
He had a look in his eye that said _no negotiating_ , so you simply let out a breath and responded, “Alright. What do you want me to do?” 

-

“Fabric?” 

_“Tactical.”_

John stood close besides you as the tailor measured your body in front of a large oval mirror. Tactical? But you thought he said you weren’t doing anything specific?  
The stricken look on your face lead John to quickly explain, “It’s only for your protection.” 

The tailor gave a nod and asked you directly, “What color would you like?” 

You started to give an answer, but John suddenly intervened. “Blue. Electric. She needs to stand out.” 

The tailor raised his eyebrows, probably expecting to hear something different like a typical shade of black. But he didn’t ask questions, if anything, he appeared more sympathetic to you all of a sudden. Instead of getting nervous, you threw him a defensive glare. Whatever John had in store for you, you could handle it. 

“Will that be all? Would you like the suit and dress sent up?” The tailor finished, setting down the measuring tape. 

John nodded, casually placing a hand on your shoulder as he rounded behind you to get closer to the tailor. “Actually, there is one more thing. We’ll need something for the face.”  
With that, he pulled out a card from his jacket pocket and handed it over lucratively.  
The tailor took one glance and a knowing gleam was brought to his eye. “Yes indeed. I’ll have those sent up as well.” 

“Thank you.” John turned and lead you out, hand still gently grasping your shoulder. “It’s important that you stay vigilant,” he told you in a hushed tone. “And to stay close to me.”

“So you want me to be bait?” You questioned, looking up to him slightly unamused.  
A frown tugged at his lips but he said again, “Just stay close to me.”  
_Don’t worry about that_ , you wanted to say but you didn’t. You simply gave a complacent nod in return, but then something dawned on you. “What about the dog?” 

“What _about_ the dog?” John furrowed his brow in concern at your odd question, and dropped his hand from you.

“Well no one will be around to take care of him!” You exclaimed, just thinking about the poor baby going without food or fresh water for a whole night.  
It made your heart clench when John actually gave a full on, white toothed smile at that. His chuckle was like hearing silvery bells. “Charon likes to look after him when I’m gone. And you too now, I guess.” He gave you a funny look, “You like breaking into my room.”

Your face was growing red now from all the blush, you could feel it. You glanced away with a bashful grin. “Only for the dog’s sake! And to change your sheets. It is my job you know.” Your eyes slowly wandered back to his, “I don’t like to imagine you in there all bloody from your...from your last hit or something.” You shrugged, actually getting quite serious in your tone.  
John kept silent at that, and quietly lead you back to your room. 

The dress was exquisite. Everything about it was elegantly beautiful. You looked so perfect in it, and as you ran your hands through the fabric, it felt so soft and airy. But at the same time you knew it could pack a punch.  
Your stomach was in knots. Both with an adrenaline rush of excitement and a bit of nauseous nervousness too. The color of the dress was so bright, it almost worried you that John made the wrong choice. Your body tingled at the thought of getting shot right as you stepped out of the continental; you wouldn’t even make it to your destination.  
Suddenly there was a knock on your door, right on time it was John. And he looked so incredibly dapper in an all black suit, like the one you had seen him in before. His hair was nicely slicked back as well; he looked dangerous.  
Just as his handsomeness stunned you into silence, he stood in the doorframe with a quiet tongue as well, enamored wide eyes flashing over you. It took him a moment but he cleared his throat and said softly— so softly in fact you had to strain to hear— “You look... _beautiful._ ” He cleared his throat a second time before stepping into the room. You blushed immensely, ducking your head down in embarrassment. “Thank you, John.” 

He smiled gently before lifting up the box he was holding to show you then placed it down in order to delicately take something from it. “Wear this at all times until I say otherwise.” He murmured, holding it up to reveal a beautifully crafted masquerade mask that matched with your dress. 

“So that’s where we are going? A masquerade ball?” Your excitement sudddnly grew even more. You’ve always wanted to go to one of those, it was on your bucket list. Except these were some weird and morbid circumstances you had to finally go. John simply nodded and came close to slip the mask on your face. His fingertips lightly brushed against your cheeks before he stepped away, reaching down to grab his own mask. Of course it was black, but when he had it on he reminded you of the Phantom of the Opera.  
Before he escorted you out, he also took a moment to check all of his weaponry that he had on him; no one would ever realize he had a Smith and Wesson hidden on his hip. 

In the lobby, Charon handed John an umbrella. “Don’t want to get the lovely lady wet. Your car is waiting.” 

“Certainly not.” John’s lips tugged up into a smirk, and he lead you to the front doors, but you paused for a moment. This was it. One foot off the hotel and your head was on the line. John opened the umbrella through the partly opened door to shield you strategically from the pouring rain and the spying eyes of the Zhou gang. “You’ll be fine, Y/N.” He whispered, seeing you freeze momentarily.  
You nodded, sucking a breath in and out before taking the first step into the open. He guided you all the way down to his Mustang, which was instructed to go right up to the steps of the Continental so that you didn’t need to touch the off limits tar pavement. So you slid right in, and he quickly went around to the drivers side, jumping in to shift the car to drive.  
Trying to gulp down your fear as the Continental shrunk smaller and smaller the further you went, you placed a hand on top of his set on the stick shift.

-

The ball was in New York’s Chinatown. It seemed like a wealthy affair because there were limos and SUVS being valeted left and right and there was a long line of people cramming to get in, but couldn’t because their name probably wasn’t on the list.  
John pulled up to let his car be valeted as well but you glanced at him with eyes full of anxiety. “Promise me that when I step out of this car I won’t be killed by a sniper.”

He was almost bold enough to crack another smile at that, but he shook his head and turned off the engine. “I promise. They don’t operate like that.”

However that didn’t necessarily made you feel better either. You gave him another uneasy look, but he simply jumped out of the car to give the valet his keys before opening the door for you.  
“Y/N,” he calmly stated, “Just stay close to me.” A hand was extended out to you and you made sure to say a little prayer before you took it.  
His strong arm pulled you up and flesh towards his side. His hand reached down and grasped yours, fingers interlocking. 

He lead you through some sort of back entrance and after passing through a dark corridor, you were suddenly in a huge room with hundreds of masked party goers.  
It was the most fantastic thing you had ever seen; grandiose silk curtains hung from the walls and waiters carried silver platters with hors d’oeuvres that had sparklers sticking out of them. And everything was red.  
John was correct in making you wear that electric blue dress because you stuck out like a sore thumb. Conveniently it seemed like everyone else wore muted dark colors.  
This made you a bit more nervous but you felt John give your hand a comforting squeeze. You glanced up to see his eyes vigilantly scanning the entire premise, as he casually lead you towards the center of the venue. The assassin dropped his hand from yours now but instead placed it on your hip as well as taking your other hand.  
“They aren’t here.” He whispered, and the two of you began to sway to the classy music. “We’re early.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding in a breath this whole time, and you finally released it in one big sigh. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.” 

“Wasn’t that hard.” He smirked, briefly taking his eyes from the crowd to gaze down at you. 

You felt that annoying blush creep back onto your cheeks but you laughed it away. “You’re right. Why _wasn’t_ it that hard?” You shook your head. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Well... you’re like your brother.” John held his hand out for you to do a quick twirl before pulling you closer again.  
You were bold enough to rest your cheek on his shoulder now as his words floated through your brain. Yes, you were like your brother. Or at least you thought you were before figuring out this secret life of his. But maybe John was right— you liked jumping into things you weren’t prepared for and you shot guns well.  
But suddenly your mind was elsewhere as a waiter walked by with a lit sparkler. “I know you were about to retire. Why are you doing this for me?” 

Your question caused John to halt his swaying for a moment. He resumed quietly, then murmured, “You remind me of someone. She.... she was in the same trouble you‘re in now.” He stopped there, struggling to even find words to continue. 

“This person...” you began, leaning back so you could look at him, but he kept his dark eyes averted. “Am I the one that shares her smile too?” You reached up to place a hand on his stubbly cheek, directing his gaze back to you.  
Instead of speaking he simply nodded, eyes growing a little hazy now but he quickly snapped out of it, looking over you again to scan the crowd.  
So you took this moment to set your cheek back on his shoulder again; and even his hand clasped yours tighter now. Your heart simply throbbed for him.  
Suddenly however, you felt him lower his head, coming closer; that was when he whispered in your ear, _“They’re here.”_ His eyes were locked onto two Zhou gang members who appeared on the second floor high rise. “They’re wearing gold masks.”  
You glanced over to see two more near the exit and that’s when you felt John shifting his position, strategically wrapping a portion of his jacket around your body, tucking you close. “See that cart over there?” He quickly mumbled. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“When I tell you, go hide in it.”

You tired to keep casual, but at the same time it was almost like you were clinging on him for dear life. This was really happening. You closed your eyes for a second, taking the time to enjoy the calm before the storm; John was warm, and you loved his embrace. The fabric of his suit against your cheek was soft and smooth despite its bulletproof fibers.  
Breathing in and out, hearing the music and laughter of the people made you feel for just a moment, that everything was just fine. But when you opened your eyes again, that’s when you saw him— a man with a gold mask stomping in your direction, eyes locked on yours, hand slowly making way to what probably was a gun behind his back. 

_”John.”_ You gasped, voice hissing with gaping fear. He didn’t even need you to explain yourself, or turn his gaze, suddenly he had his gun out and fired a bullet into the mans gut. 

That’s when all hell broke loose. 

John turned and fired two more rounds at the men on the high rise before they could even take out their guns. People ran everywhere in all directions, and the sound of screams and ringing of gunfire made you press your face into his chest. You couldn’t help it, this whole time you thought you would be ready but you were shaking like a leaf. 

“Go now, Y/N!” He commanded gruffly, releasing his hold on you.  
You hated the idea of leaving his side but you didn’t waste time hesitating and bolted right over to the waiter’s cart, diving inside as fast as you could.  
You were shrouded by red curtain on either side, so unless they saw you hide there they wouldn’t be able to spot you. But you couldn’t just sit in ignorance so you peered through a small crack in order to watch if John was okay.  
He was in full-on assassin mode now, both hands on the pistol, dishing out headshots left and right as the Zhou gang descended on him. You almost had a heart attack when he ran out of bullets, but John simply chucked the gun towards the head of a goon and used his fists. He quickly disarmed a man, but another one creeped up and shot him— you almost screamed but you slapped a hand over your mouth.  
John fell to the ground, but he was okay as the bullet simply slid off his jacket. He was able to side sweep the Zhou goon to the floor as well, causing him to drop the gun, and grabbed an unlit sparkler laying on the ground. John took the squirming goon’s head to smash it against the tile before brutally shoving the sparkler into the his eyeball. However, when John stood to find the dropped gun, it had skidded all the way over to your cart, about three feet away.  
You heard more Zhou members coming, so you panicked and zipped out of your hiding place to throw John the weapon. He didn’t have time to scold you so he caught the gun and put a bullet in the goon’s face, automatically igniting the sparkler.  
Then he ran over to you, probably about to tell you to get back in that cart— **BANG! BANG!**

John crumpled on you, having been shot in the back. Despite the pain his tactical suit still brought him, the assassin spun around to shoot back with one hand. Simultaneously, he tried to keep you shielded. Once the others were dead, John pulled you with him down the corridor they slithered out from.  
“Where’s Zhou?” You whispered, growing slightly impatient. 

John glanced back at you to reply, “There’s a safe room up ahead.” 

And he was correct, but it was being guarded by at least six men. So John pushed you back into the hallway and courageously stepped right in, gun blazing. He stepped out of your view so you could only hear the sounds of bullets, and cries of pain. You were frozen, waiting desperately for John to show himself alive.  
About six strenuous minutes went by until you hear your name called. You rounded the corner to see John standing in the center of blood and guts. He speedily reached down and grabbed a gun from the ground before going over to you; he placed the gun in your hand. “Stay here. If I don’t come back in ten minutes exactly, then call the number I gave you.”

“But John I—“ He instantly cut you off by reaching a bruised hand out to brush away your wild strands of hair. His eyes glanced down to the worn gun in your hands. “Only use that if you have to. I’ll be right back.” 

With that, he jogged into the door the goons were guarding and disappeared. You crouched down behind a dead body and stared at the gun he gave you. It looked exactly like the gun you practiced on the other day. You also slipped out the flip phone you received and opened it to glance over the number. 

_Smirnov_ it said. 

If you remember correctly that was the gang leader your brother was sent to kill. You frowned slightly, recalling what John instructed you earlier when discussing the plan:  
_“You’ll hold onto this phone. And if something ever happens to me, call the number on it. All you have to tell them is that John Wick needs a favor.”_

Essentially they were backup. As you mentally counted the minutes, you prayed you didn’t need to call them but eight minutes already past by. Taking your lip between your teeth you contemplated the situation, staring from the phone to the gun and from the gun to the phone. 

Nine minutes now. Shit. That’s when you shifted onto your feet, putting the phone away. John said ten minutes but this was long enough. So you made sure the gun was off safety and sneaked your way through the door. There was a long hallway that had an elevator at the end.  
You sucked in a breath as you entered; there was only one button, so you were going up.  
You knew that when the doors opened you’d be confronted with whatever the new situation was right away. You were being irrational but you didn’t want the backup. You held up the gun in confidence as the elevator stopped.  
56, 57, 58, 59, 60— the doors peeled open with a beep. The ten minutes were up.

In front of you sat John on his knees, and a Chinese man standing over him. Everyone else who was originally in the room was lying dead on the ground. 

So this must be Zhou. 

Everything inside of you came crashing down at once; fury, rage, overwhelming sadness, jealousy, _revenge_. He was the one that ended your brothers’ life. And now, as you glanced to John’s blood on the floor, he had the nerve to take away this man who you felt bound to.  
You kept your sights right on Zhou’s skull when you took a deeper step into the room.  
He simply smirked and said, “Oh look how pathetic, the big bad _Baba Yaga_ has my bounty come to save him. Welcome Miss L/N.” 

At the sound of your last name, John squirmed— which at that moment you realized he somehow managed to get his hands tied— and he hissed, “Y/N, I told you to call the god damn number!”  
At John’s words, Zhou placed a knife to his neck, digging the sharp tip in until he pierced blood. 

You stepped forward, feeling your heart beat fast and faster. “Let him go.”

“Oh? Why, what do you have in mind? Trade places? _Please spare him, and I’ll take his place, I’m the one you want!_ ” he openly mocked, but then as fast as lightning he drew a gun and sent a bullet your way. “I’d rather kill both of you now!” 

Luckily the bullet hit your bulletproof dress, but it still hurt like a bitch, so you went diving backwards. But you kept your gun raised and pulled the trigger.  
Zhou screamed, the bullet lodged itself nicely in his shoulder.  
The knife was dropped, so John wiggled himself towards it, taking the blade to cut himself free.  
He scurried to grab his own weapon, which was laying on the table, but he wasn’t quick enough as Zhou stood again and aimed at John.

_BANG! BANG! BANG!_

There was silence. Then the sound of a body dropping to the ground. It was like slow motion, your breath caught in your throat as you stumbled towards John.  
You reached down to grab his arm, looking past his frame to Zhou— the damned gangster laid stone cold with three rounds in his unrecognizable face.  
John looked to you, and you both shared a quite moment of shock before glancing to the smoking gun in your hand. It was over.  
Before you could even react, he found his way to his feet, finally grabbing his weapon and yanking you out of the room.  
Nothing was said as you both rushed out of the venue and back to the hotel.  
You were frozen in shock the whole time to speek anyway, so in the car ride back you stared out of the window thinking of the dead blown-off face of Zhou. Your brother wasn’t coming back, and you knew that, but you were relieved that it was over. Zhou was dead. He wouldn’t have the chance to hurt anyone else now.  
When the car was parked and the engine silenced, that’s when John finally spoke. “Why didn’t you call the number?” His dark eyes shifted to peer into yours expecting a good answer.  
But he didn’t get one. “I wanted to do it...kill him.” 

John shook his head in disappointment. “No you didn’t, Y/N. Revenge isn’t the answer.“

“Speak for yourself!” You couldn’t believe how hypocritical he was being. “I know about your past. I know who you are.” 

He stared at you silently for a moment, probably regretting his words. “You could’ve been killed.” 

“Well I wasn’t.” You jumped out of the car and made your way to the front entrance of the hotel. He quickly got out too in order to catch up to you. He grabbed your shoulder to spin you around. “Listen, I know what I’ve done. And look where it’s gotten me.” He gestured to his tired, bruised, bloody self. “I dont want you to make the same mistakes, be like your brother. This is not a good life.” 

You let out a sigh at that and climbed the steps of the Continental. “I know John. I know... I just.... want to move on.” The doorman opened the door for you as you entered, immediately bumping into Winston in the lobby.  
He saw how scruffed up and bloody you were, and raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s done.” You muttered sharply. “Now you have no reason to kick me out old man.” 

The manager scoffed at that and was about to throw back a reply when John placed a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. 

You trudged to your room, but before you were about to enter John took your hand. “What?” You snapped.

“I have something for that wound.” He gestured to your forehead, and it was only until you reached fingers up to feel a small cut near your temple. You let out a sigh but obliged, letting him lead you into his dark room. The pit bull came rushing over, tail wagging per usual.  
You collapsed onto his bed as he went to get the medical stuff. The dog jumped up and curled next to you. Resting now, your eyes slowly wandered over to the nightstand that brought found yet embarrassing memories of when you first met him.  
The daisy charm still laid there, but that was when you noticed the picture of a beautiful woman around your age, maybe a tad older. That must have been his late wife.  
Your heart grew heavy, and John re-entered the room now with a bottle and gauze. He kneeled in front of you, going right to work on your cut.  
Things were quiet until you whispered, _“Thank you.”_  
He simply gave a nod in return. You couldn’t help but to keep glancing back to the picture on the nightstand. Your tongue was like lead all of a sudden but you forced out the question, “Do you still love her?” 

He instantly stopped dabbing your cut and followed your gaze. He hung his head slightly when he saw the picture, then went back to attending your cut. “I do.”  
The heart in your chest dropped— the tears came even though it was stupid. So stupid. Of course he still loved her. You tried not to let the tears drip down your cheeks for his sake, but it was getting hard to hold the guise of normalcy being this close to him, so you started to push his hands away. “Thanks John, I’ll be fine now.” You started to get up, but he held you in place, reaching up to gently stick a bandage over the wound. Then his fingers wandered down wiping away the tears he knew where there. “I do love her.” He said again, as if to torture you. You could have sworn his own eyes started to glisten with tears. “But I need forgiveness.” 

“Why?” You asked, searching his face for an answer to such an odd statement. 

He seemed hesitant, but shifted closer, leaning in to place his soft lips against your bandaged temple. This caught you off guard, and your hands found their way to his. Those lips trailed down your cheek, planting tentative kisses here and there.  
When he grew close enough to your lips, he hovered there a few inches away— uncertain, shy. You noticed the tears trailing down his own cheeks; it was your turn to wipe them away. 

“How can I move on?” He barely whispered, torment laced in his voice. 

You fumbled for an answer, simply taking the moment to stroke his stubbly cheek before replying, “Accept. You need to accept what’s been done..... We....we can both accept...” Thoughts about your brother raced through your mind. It hurt; and you could only imagine the pain he was in right now. But you were right for once. It was time to accept the past.  
He nodded, lips brushing against yours now— but it wasn’t out of temptation or lust; he was simply ready to move on... to love again. He was a tormented soul, and he was tired.  
John raised his hands, sitting them on your hips lightly, and closed his eyes. That was when he kissed you— slowly, softly, like he hadn’t kissed in years.


End file.
